


A Certain Energy

by Stormkpr



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cozy, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Perthshire Cottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 10:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormkpr/pseuds/Stormkpr
Summary: After Season 3, FitzSimmons aren’t granted leave for that trip to the Seychelles, but they are allowed three days at a remote cottage in Perthshire around Christmastime.This is a gift for AgentLukaofShield!





	A Certain Energy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentlukaofshield (lukadarkwater)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukadarkwater/gifts).



> The prompt was: “Anything to do with life at their (eventual) cottage/Christmas fluff”. Also, giftee was okay with smut! (This fic knocks on smut's door but never quite enters). Enjoy.
> 
> Thank you again to JaneDoh7 and LibbyWeasley for beta-testing, and to Whatlighttasteslike and Eclecticmuses for organizing the exchange.

“People who are intensely coupled always seem to me to have a certain energy; it’s as though they’re being pulled elsewhere – as if they are forever trying to get back to their other half.”- Writer Abby Norman 

 

***

Fitz sat by the fireplace, trying to force himself to wait patiently. There was nothing to do but wait at this point. He had surveyed the tiny cottage a dozen times. The fireplace crackled steadily, a delicious aroma emanated from the stew simmering on the stove, and not one item was out of place. The blue and white throw rug adorned the couch, and the gift he’d purchased for Jemma sat neatly wrapped, atop the coffee table. The bed, of course, he had inspected more than once and knew it would meet Simmons’ expectations.

Fitz walked over to one of the windows and brushed the curtain aside. Snow, as far as the eye could see, and almost nothing else. He and Simmons had chosen this cottage for their getaway desiring something remote – and they had definitely succeeded in that front. Fitz remembered seeing the house of their closest neighbors, more than three kilometers away.

His ears strained to hear the sound of any vehicle. The snow at least was winding down, though steady winds whistled. 

Fitz walked again to the kitchen nook. Two holiday-themed mugs sat on the counter at the ready, next to the tea selections. He picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the stew again. He shook his head; he could almost hear his mother asking him why he hadn’t waited until Simmons got there before turning on the heat. His mum would’ve relished making such a comment, as cooking was one area in which her skills clearly beat his. But the last communication from Simmons had indicated that she’d be arriving soon, if all went well.

Fitz then looked at his phone again. Nothing. He and Simmons might be two of SHIELD’s best agents, but that didn’t mean they received any special treatment when on a three-day holiday to Perthshire. Nor would Fitz expect any. He had to hope that cell service might return, that the enhancements made to his and Simmons’ phones would help, and that whatever vehicle she’d rented would get her here safely. Simmons had been ready to depart for Scotland at the same time as Fitz, but duty had called and the lab had needed her for something urgent. So she hadn’t been able to depart until half a day after he. The delay had given him precious time with his mother, but now here he was, at the cottage, snowstorm winding down, just hoping that Simmons would arrive soon.

He took a breath and reminded himself of a few facts. Given everything that Simmons had lived through, driving in a remote area during a snowstorm would not phase her. At least, not anywhere near as much as it would fluster a normal person. And compared to how long he had waited for her and fought to bring her back, this delay in Perthshire was just a blink of the eye. Plus he could just hear Simmons’ voice inside his head: Use this time as the vacation we promised ourselves. Try to put the lab out of your mind; stepping away from work for a bit is good for the mind. Do something you haven’t been able to do for a while – like read a book for pleasure. 

Just as Fitz seated himself back onto the sofa and picked up the book, he heard an engine, and then heard the crunch of big tires atop snow. He sprang out of his seat, pulled back the curtains, and his heart leapt. Simmons!

***

“It’s so good to be here!” Jemma said, somewhere been an exclamation and an inhalation. She pressed Fitz against herself firmly as they embraced in the doorway, her duffle bag having been dropped. Neither Simmons nor Fitz broke off the hug, the harsh wind and cold air barely registering. 

When at last they headed inside, Fitz insisted on putting the kettle on as she warmed herself up by the fireplace. “Tell me everything,” he said, as he turned the stovetop heat on. “Oh, and did you want the usual for your tea? The cottage owners also stocked the place with Christmas-themed teas like – “ he picked up the packages – “candy-apple flavor. Candy-cane flavor too. And this one that just says ‘Christmas tea’,” he added, making a face.

Jemma smiled. “You pick. Between the extra hours in the lab and then the journey here, I rather look forward to not making any decisions!”

“That’s a first,” Fitz quipped. Jemma shot him a look.

Moments later, they sat by the fire sipping their tea and starting in on their stew. Fitz related his visit to his mother, and Jemma her travails in the lab and in getting here. “The floor heat in the SUV didn’t work,” Jemma said. “I think my feet are only just starting to get warm.” She smiled as they both looked at her socks. “Yes, that is the pair you gave me. Their level of insulation is superb.”

“Thank you. And of course you’ll notice that I’m wearing socks that you gave me as well,” Fitz added. 

“Yes,” Jemma began hesitantly, glancing at the monkey-pattern that adorned his socks. “Though I selected them more for their pattern than their insulation level.”

“They’re perfect. I wish I could say the same for this stew though.” He made a face as he took another bite of it.

Jemma smiled. Cooking might never be Fitz’s forte, but she loved that he had tried. Though the stew’s vegetables had been cut into pieces that were too large and the stew was too salty, she had no complaints and told him so.

Fitz then took another sip of tea. Sitting before the fire with the love of his life, now that they were both warm and cozy, now that no one else was around – it was intoxicating. They had kissed, of course, before she had walked through the door but he couldn’t wait any longer for another one. “My lips are chapped, and I didn’t bring any lip balm. Do you have….?”

“I have some on right now,” Jemma smiled, knowing exactly where his thoughts were. “So let me help you.” She reached to cup the side of his face and pulled him into a kiss. She felt as intoxicated as he. After hours of travel, the last two of which were spent inside a lukewarm vehicle navigating slippery roads, she knew that this was pure heaven. Feeling his arms around her, slipping under her sweater, her muscles began to unknot. The touch of his mouth on her was all the balm she needed. She enjoyed the feel of the stubble on his face. He was such a good kisser, she mused. He was the perfect blend of delicate and strong, and he never paced it too quickly. She had kissed more than one man who had acted as if compelled to stick his tongue inside as urgently as possible.

“I have a confession to make,” she began softly. 

“A confession?” Fitz asked, eyebrows raising.

“I see a lovely gift sitting before us on the coffee table,” she observed, turning her head slightly. “While your gift is back at the lab.” She looked downwards.

Fitz drew a breath in mock horror. “What’s this? From the woman who excels at preparation??” He drew his hands up to his chest, pretending to recoil.

“Positively shameful, what I did,” Jemma muttered, smiling. “Whatever are we to do about it?” she reached back to Fitz for another kiss, this time pressing him back against the sofa. Her kisses turned more insistent. 

“Do you want to know what your gift was?” Jemma continued. 

Her playful and seductive tone, combined with her more passionate kisses, was both causing Fitz to feel flustered and giving him a hint as to the answer. “Is – um, is it something we can use in the bedroom?”

“Yes,” Jemma whispered. She began to gently nibble on his ear. One of her hands continued to explore underneath his shirt. “Shall I describe it?”

“Yes. Please,” Fitz managed. He knew he was basically being ravished -by Jemma’s words and by her touches. And he had no objection to this. Despite what Jemma had said earlier about being finished making decisions today, Fitz noted that her dominant nature had reestablished itself.

Jemma went on to whisper the details to Fitz; the gift was something Jemma would wear: lingerie. Fitz listened to the details as Jemma slowly described them. Their relationship as a couple was still new, and Fitz marveled that even after ten years as friends, they still had much to learn about each other. He would find Jemma enticing even if she were wearing white granny panties, and he didn’t see much need for sexy underwear. But the topic hadn’t exactly come up during their years as friends, and no doubt Simmons was drawing on research that indicated that males were more drawn to visuals in erotica. Part of the excitement, he felt, of them being together now would lay in having conversations about this and learning more in this area. 

Despite lingerie not being Fitz’s thing, he was immensely enjoying everything else about the moment. Jemma had succeeded in unbuttoning both his cardigan and the shirt underneath it. He helped her to discard them, and then she straddled him, continuing her torrent of kisses and whispers. He wished this moment would never end, although Simmons’s shirt was proving maddeningly difficult to remove. 

“Let me help you,” Jemma said, deftly removing her sweater.

“See, this is a perfectly lovely bra you have on,” Fitz said, once Jemma’s shirt and sweater had joined his on the floor and sofa. “You don’t need lingerie. And this one is even red, for the Christmas spirit.” 

“The only red one I own.” Jemma paused and then said, “Now. Bed or sofa?”

“Given that we nearly fell off the sofa last week, I’m going to select bed,” Fitz said. 

“Ooh yes,” Jemma responded, stepping off the sofa. “That was scary but it was so good it would have been worth it. Especially when you….” she went on to describe a luscious memory regarding something Fitz had done last week.

“I think I can arrange that again,” Fitz said, grinning. As they made their way to the bed and divested themselves of the rest of their clothing, Fitz reflected for a moment on how lucky he felt. He was here with Simmons. She was all his. They had a cozy, remote cottage to themselves, the snowstorm providing every excuse they needed to remain unreachable. He had been through some grueling experiences during the past three years but he had all the paradise he needed right here.

THE END


End file.
